Serious Matters - Electric Dreams - Human Is
by Ellie 5192
Summary: "Don't try to solve serious matters in the middle of the night" –Philip K Dick. Saving his life was the easy part. The rest of their lives is where it gets messy. [Post-episode, 1x06 Human Is]


_This is based solely on the TV episode Human Is (1x06) from Electric Dreams. I haven't read the original PKD story, so if there are plot holes or points that don't fit, chalk it up to creative licence. True to form, there's feelings and smut. Enjoy!_

_~0~_

_**Serious Matters**_

"_Don't try to solve serious matters in the middle of the night" _

–_Philip K Dick_

_~0~_

"We need to convince Olin to pursue more peaceful options", she says to the dark, lying on her back, listening to the sound of his steady breathing beside her.

They used to share a bed, in the very beginning, when they were first paired up by the State and pretending to fulfil the procreation mandate. There was never any passion. It was nice enough, gentle even, but it was never passionate, and in the end it was easy to let the warmth of his body slip away to the separate bedrooms they had for nearly ten years. She never truly wanted him gone; she just wanted him to be present when he was with her. She wanted him to _want_ to be with her. Every time she reached for him she hoped he would accept, and every time he turned away it broke her heart anew. They used to share a lot of things when they were younger – exchanged gentle touches and warm meals; they were _happy_, even – but memories of those early days seem like a different life to her now.

They've been sharing her bedroom again since the night he burst in to strip her bare, awakening something she was sure had died.

Silas turns his head in the dark beside her and makes out her shape.

"They weren't very quick to listen last time", he says softly. "What makes you think they will for the next mission?"

She turns her head to look his way, surprised he is awake, and then rolls onto her side so her whole body is facing him. Once, his words would have been cruel, dismissive of the role she plays as the highest ranking Intelligence Director in the State. Once, he would have been putting her back in her place while he ruthlessly decided resources were more important than the lives they might take to obtain them. Once, not that long ago, they wouldn't have been sharing a bed, having this conversation, acknowledging their difference of opinion so delicately.

She still marvels at how many small things have changed. Or perhaps, how many things have come back from those early halcyon days, rediscovered under the ash of the intervening years.

"_You_ could convince them this time", she says instead.

They do not talk about who he really is, or what he's here to achieve. She decided for herself that he is not a soldier, or even a spy. A spy would have no need to love her the way he does. A spy wouldn't bother to care which bed he lands in at night. And somewhere inside him there is still a Silas she recognises – the creature is a parasite, taking over its host and inheriting his memories. He still knows all of their military strategies and their justifications; still remembers the battles he has seen and the men he lost along the way. He still remembers meeting her for the first time. He remembers enough that he could pretend to be that man again, if he needed to convince them of his fidelity, but he doesn't want to; he wants to be changed and she wants to let him.

"They'll never trust my word the way they used to", he reminds her. The backs of his fingers reach out and land against her arm in comfort. Silas Herrick may have been cleared of being a Rexorian, retaining his rank and position, but the suspicion brought by his trial will never go away, no matter how many selfless missions he continues to lead for the betterment of Terra. Her reputation survived a little better, but probably not by much. They will always be the couple walking around with a shared scarlet letter.

"But I'll back your word, if you advise judiciousness", adds Silas. She doesn't need to see his eyes in the dark to know they are soft for her.

She smiles and rolls her face into the pillow to hide from herself. It seems wrong, somehow, to feel _so much_ for a man she knows is not entirely her husband. They used to care for each other, she's certain of it, though time and trauma dulled it until there was nothing left. They used to value the roles they played as Level One officials; respected each other, which was its own kind of love in a marriage designed purely for politics. There was even a measure of innocence in their earliest days, of discovering their lives together through performed acts of domesticity, which she held onto with hope much longer than was probably wise. All too quickly the ambition and drive she once so greatly admired turned him vicious and hurtful, and any glimmer of affection they had for each other was lost under the burdens he felt he had to bare alone, and the anguish he refused to talk about. Try as she might – and she did try, despite her better judgement – she could never rekindle in him the warmth he once showed her when they were first married. And through their work their differences only grew greater. Her humanitarian streak was a blight the Old Silas learned to live with at a distance. Now it is the thread that holds her and the New Silas together, a twist of irony that isn't lost on her.

"We'll do our best", she replies, because these days she finds herself being the reticent one, if only to not be overwhelmed by him. Besides, it's not the hour to have this conversation in earnest, so she doesn't invite more.

"You always do", says Silas, before shuffling over closer to her. He throws his arm up and over her head, the movement sudden enough that she's momentarily startled by what he's doing. When she feels his bicep nudge the top of her hair, she smiles, lifts her head so he can move his arm around her, and lets him pull her into an embrace. She is quicker to recognise these moments as time goes on, but she thinks it will take a long time to get used to the infinitesimal new ways he shows his devotion.

It will probably always feel foreign, his desire to touch her so gently. To _care_ for her. It's all she's wanted for so long that to finally have it feels too much like a dream.

A lump forms in her throat and she fights the urge to cry. It doesn't seem fair, that the Old Silas knew all the same things as this one, spent all that time at her side and in her home, and yet it's this creature who whispers his admiration for her in the dark. She hasn't ventured into the Maze once since he arrived, and it hurts to think this was all she needed, all this time. His time, and his dedication, even just for a moment, even in the dark. It's terrible. It's wonderful.

If Silas notices a change in her, he doesn't say so, only runs his fingers lazily over her arm while his other hand rests contentedly on his stomach.

"Thank you", she whispers into his chest. She means for his support, but she also means for everything else too. She presses herself just a little closer, breathing him in. The smell of his skin is so familiar after all this time and yet so different to her now, the new memories they're building together painting over the years of neglect that came before.

"I'm sorry", he replies. His hand flattens around her shoulder and squeezes her into him, but Vera doesn't stay in his embrace, instead leaning up on her elbow to seek out the shape of his face in the dark.

"Whatever for?"

His hand on his stomach comes up to cup her cheek, his thumb running over her skin like the feel of it is a wonder he needs to discover.

"I'm sorry we haven't always been like this"

He says it as though it's his fault she hasn't been cherished, as if this Silas had any control over the man whose memories he now shares. Vera cannot stop the tears from returning in earnest, slipping out before she can school herself. They do not talk about the _before_ and the _after_, for fear they'll reveal too much in the process and the tenuous truce they have struck will be broken under the weight of the truth. But sometimes it slips out in more innocent ways; that he is not the man she married, and that she chose to save him anyway – to keep him for herself despite the security risk and the State mandates and the trial. That this creature, whoever he is, very nearly walked to his death in an effort to save her life is all the proof she needs that she made the right choice.

"We're like this now", she whispers against his lips as she leans in and kisses him, his thumb wiping her tears away.

Vera forgave Yaro for her testimony because of course she was only doing what was right. They are in a constant state of war, this planet and this society as fragile as one enemy infiltration, or five months' worth of breathable air, or one failed recovery mission. If Vera occasionally stepped outside herself to seek passion in dark corners, she kept that part of herself private, and secret, because other more important things were at stake. Yaro was thinking of the big picture, and Vera can't fault her for that. Many people live a life like the one Vera left behind, cold and empty and solely for the State. Some have children, and they provide enough distraction to keep two people happy together. The lucky ones have good marriages, built by two people who love each other, or learn how to over time.

She and Silas never had children. They were always career-focused, both of them high ranking and respected and _necessary _in their respective roles. She thinks he always resented her a bit for that.

And now she has him in her bed and wrapped around her, and it's hard to remember that these hands would grip her arm too tight, grab at her face roughly, swat away her calls for any kind of intimacy. It's hard to reconcile that these lips, so full of loving words and tender caresses, used to tear her down any time her achievements looked to outshine his own. Colonel Herrick would walk into fire to save his men on a battlefield, but couldn't bring himself to walk across the distance between his room and hers to share a kind word with his wife. All she ever wanted from him was a sign that he cared for her still, because despite the abuse and the neglect, she always found herself caring for him. She mourned him when he supposedly died and was beyond relieved when he miraculously came back; she nursed him through recovery and never stopped hoping after every mission that one day he would return to her arms with renewed warmth. She thought it was her fault, somehow, that he never did.

Silas now seems to spend every day proving to her that it wasn't her fault at all, not even a little bit.

The man who is now her husband is not a saboteur. He is simply grateful for the chance to live a little more peacefully than he did on his home planet. To experience the delight of good food, the joy of watching a sapling grow, the comfort of her company. He will continue to fight to save humanity because he is now human. And she thinks, if it's not too presumptuous, that he is as overcome to find himself adoring her as she is to receive it. Terra is still at war, and they will still send him into more battles for scarce resources. But with some persuasion from them both the State will agree to target uninhabited planets in the future; it's a small win she can live with, and hopes he can too. In the meantime he is here to stay and she holds that gift close to her heart.

"I love you", he mutters against her lips, his kisses deepening, his arms wrapping around her tightly to draw her back against him.

She wonders what that means, from a creature that is half man and half alien – whether these beings feel the same way humans do, or if he filters what he feels through the experience of now living in a human body. But no matter what the answer might be, she is certain he loves her. He has done, almost from the first moment he saw her. Was it the echo of Silas' memories that inspired it? Had her husband loved her all along, deep inside where not even she could see? Or did this man come to love her on his own terms, for his own reasons?

Does it even matter?

He is here now, she tells herself. They will face each new crisis as it comes and find solace in each other regardless. On balance, her husband was always a good man, a brave man, and she used to comfort herself with that fact. If he has changed for the better, all the better to love her in earnest, then she will count that as a blessing and let it be. They made their choices when they stood in that court and testified to save each other.

"I love you, Silas", she whispers back, as she feels his hand snake under the sheets, over her hip, down her thigh to draw her knee up and across his body. She feels the beginning of his erection against her bare flesh, and it's somehow more erotic than anything she ever witnessed down in the Maze, to know that he _sees_ her, and he _knows_ her, and he _wants_ her.

It's the middle of the night and they should both get some sleep for tomorrow's meeting, but she can't bring herself to roll away from the warmth of his body or the feel of his hands running over her skin wherever he can reach. They are both still naked from their earlier lovemaking; it takes almost nothing to shift her weight over the top of him as his hands continue to wander, and her tongue seeks out his in a dance that is rapidly becoming familiar. She feels him harden beneath her as they writhe together, and the thrill of being so desired makes her skin spark with sensitivity and wetness gather between her legs. When he enters her there is none of the frenzy of earlier. It is a slow rock, the two of them never parting, her senses completely overwhelmed by his smell and their sighs and the feeling of her whole body – all those sweet and secret places, ignored for so long – sliding against his.

If what she sought from the Maze was carnal distraction, then what she has discovered here with Silas is something else entirely; sensuality that overloads her mind and leaves her limbs feeling both heavy and light. Sometimes he takes her with a fire like a man possessed – the pun of such a thought lost to the truth of it – and other times, like tonight, he likes to savour her, like she's a fine wine he wants to rest on his tongue for long moments before swallowing his fill and going back for more. The carnal distractions have found a place in her bed, but it's everything else besides which make it something else altogether, something no stranger could provide her.

He comes with a low growl and she revels in the feeling, still keyed up and attuned to him as she caresses him through his climax and back down again. When he recovers his breath he moves to gently push her off, and she is okay with that – it is late and they should sleep. But his body keeps turning as she lands on her back beside him, and his hands continue to touch her, tracing lines from her neck to her breasts, down her stomach and lower through her dark curls. He snakes his arm under her neck so he can hold her while he's holding himself above her, and he kisses her with the same fervour as before whilst his other hand continues to explore. His fingers slip inside her and she is suddenly back in the heat of passion, writhing underneath him, running her hands over his back and his neck and his hair. He is not rough with her – he never is anymore, unless she asks him to be – but he plays her body like he knows it as well as his own, and she wonders which Silas bothered to learn the exact pressure she needs inside. When his lips leave her own it is only to dip his mouth lower and flick her nipple between his teeth. Her nerves hum with the familiar build-up of release, and he must sense it in the way her breath gets shorter, her exhalations escaping on a sigh, the way she whispers his name as she rocks against the feeling of his fingers sliding inside her. As the summit approaches he places his thumb on her clit and clamps his lips over her breast, and she shatters with strong flutters they both feel against his hand, her mouth open in a silent cry. He moans with her at the sensation.

While she is still catching her breath he leans all the way over her to fetch his shirt on her side of the floor, and she runs her hands over his back with a wide smile, his gesture so mundane yet charmingly intimate. He wipes them both up efficiently, tosses the shirt back on the floor, and then rests with his head next to hers on the pillow, tucking the sheets back up around them.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers to her. "I could watch you all night"

She smiles at him and runs the backs of her fingers down his cheek, her nails scratching against his chin. "We should sleep", she replies, her smirk just a little bit cheeky, though he can't really see it in the dark. In another world – one that wasn't in a constant state of martial law and near-destruction – she would suggest they take time off for a second honeymoon and get lost in each other at one of the nature resorts on Level 80. But they are both too high-ranking and too necessary to ongoing missions – they never really got a first honeymoon, such is life on Terra – and so it is these moments they steal instead.

"Do you want your clothes?" he asks her. Their various garments are scattered all over the place, but he'll fetch her nightie for her if she wants him too.

She shakes her head, and because he might not be able to see it, whispers _no_ into the dark. He doesn't move to get his own clothes at all, and that makes her smile more. He can feel the grin on her face when he leans in and kisses her, the touch practically chaste in comparison.

"Goodnight, Silas", she whispers to him.

"Tomorrow let's change the world", he replies dramatically, and then retreats, not to leave her bed, but because they both overheat too quickly if they try and fall asleep wrapped in each other. They learned that the hard way. Sooner or later they'll need to discuss him moving into this room permanently, though he maintains his room for now, ostensibly for when one of them stays late at the office and doesn't want to disturb the other. So far they haven't used it.

She snorts at his comment. "Okay cowboy", she says to him, and she knows he's grinning even if she can't see it. Silas was always a man dedicated to his duty, but it's refreshing to hear him want to do more than just follow orders. He feels more and more like the young man she married, rough edges smoothed out by long-forgotten hope. They settle on their respective sides of the bed, lying on their backs, the early morning hours settling around them, her body sated and sinking into sleep before she can stop herself.

"Yee-haw", he mumbles, close to sleep himself, and the last thing she thinks before she nods off is that it would be fun to venture down to the Maze together and source him a hat to match his newfound sense of social justice, if only to make them both laugh.


End file.
